The rainbow melted
before my eyes
and trickled down the sky
in drops of heaven
as I stood with a
cup in my hand
watching it
fill to the brim
one colour at a time.
I take a sip, and
my insides vaporize
leaving behind
wisps of smoke
that fight
to escape
like daylight,
into the night
where it settles
on the unborn flowers
that bloom into life.
And then the words
stopped flowing
As the conscious mind
took over the sub-conscious,
Leaving behind
an empty casket
buried in the graveyard
just beyond the wall
that separates
sanity from insanity,
humility from vanity, and
dreams from reality.
In the middle of it all
the headstone stands alone
Singing an elegy
written by a ghost
who vanished in the fog
Leaving behind
bits and pieces of his soul
that no one in this life
will find.
What do you do?
When all you can do
Is wait;
Anxious and restless
As time plays
its game
Like a serial killer
Before it slays
its victims
In slow motion
You pray
for the end to
Embrace you
hoping
It’ll liberate you
And take you
To a place where
There is no space
For the minutes
To fill in the days
As the last drops of blood
flows out of your veins
And you’re left with
What you had craved for
In the first place –
A beginning
to your end.
Painting By: Umberto Boccioni
Speeding serpent of metal
Slither past lush green meadows
as a thousand stories speak
through the thick glass windows
Mountains deep in slumber
like dragons in the distance
Chimneys breathing smoke
Like volcanoes threatening eruption
Rickshaws and overcrowded buses,
Motor cycles at railway crosses
pause, as the serpent moves past
Power grids and deserted houses
Cattle grazing nonchalantly
underneath the setting sun
Little children on porches
Waving goodbyes at strangers
An explosion of violet and yellow
Over the ageing fences add life
To the portrait of a landscape
Bathed in evening light
Graveyards and shrines stand
Neglected under the stars
as the darkness slowly puts an end
to the stories that spoke through the glass
Photo Source: http://www.deviantart.com/morelikethis/artists/105704232
In the air we breathe the essence of the departed floats like the first snow of the season, reaching out to us in the purest of white, from the ubiquitous grey of the sky. For a moment we feel the pinch of cold on our bare skin but then it melts away, leaving just a trail of transparent liquid where it had touched us. The transformation so ephemeral that one could barely notice it happen and yet significant enough to leave its trace on our lives.The consciousness they touch in that flicker of a moment become a small part of a much bigger experience. This experience then survives the gloom of winter through the summer and all the other seasons, through rain and wind, while continuously battling with time, to be transformed into this really powerful memory. A memory that, within itself, holds the ability to breathe life back into the gloomy winter and make it snow once again.
Photo Source: http://www.markforrester.co.za
Gnawing at deathly masses
With talons sharp and sleek
Scavengers sing of the end
as the dead are put to sleep
The silent night plays its tune-
haunting elegies on the harp
Memoirs of life decay to dust
as the trees chime in the dark
Photo Source: http://www.wikipaintings.org
Every face will disappear and every spirit will fade into the sun. The days will melt away into hours and the hours will vaporize into seconds, right before our eyes, beneath the clear blue sky. The fire of freedom will crackle at our feet and we will dance around it like proud centaurs – victorious in our battle against life.
Photo Source: http://antaryamin.wordpress.com
I opened my eyes today feeling like no other day. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the warmth of the morning. It was an incredible experience. The sun felt warmer and the air lighter. The trees seemed greener and the sky looked more beautiful than ever. There was no trace of sadness or loneliness nor was there any doubt or questions. There was no hint of disappointment or resentment. There was just this sense of lingering peace that made everything seem better.
I got up, walked up to the door and turned, one last time, to see my body cradled peacefully on the bed before moving on.
Photo Source: http://www.ludimaginary.net/photograph-668.html
Erase me from the annals, for they remind us of things that should have been forgotten. Erase me from the memories, for they keep us alive in times that should have passed. Erase me from your heart, for it holds on too tight to fickle reflections. Erase me from your life, for tomorrow I shall be the story that wasn’t meant to last. Erase me from the stone that might have carried my name on a grave. Erase me from the wall that might have held onto my face behind a glass. Erase me from every eye, every face, that might lament my absence. Erase me, for I am the train that was just supposed to pass.
Mute Expressions 